Lost Soul
by TheIdiocyWizard
Summary: Named by the Slavers he targets on Omega, "The Ravager" is the newest member of the Normandy crew. What demons will he bring with him, and how will he overcome them? During ME2, OC-centric.
1. Chapter 1

Shepard peeked out the window of the dingy building he and his squad were hiding in, trying to get his mind off the smell of the place. It was futile, however, as the stench of piss and depression reeked everywhere on Omega. _Should've worn a damn helmet. _he thought dryly, but even then the air filters in a helmet still wouldn't purge the odor completely. He ran a gloved hand over his shaved head, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Part of him just wanted to start the fighting because then he would have to focus on not dying instead of Omega's smell.

Peering up the street he saw a group of nine Batarians talking to one another, seven armed guards and two relatively well dressed men. Accompanying them were two Asari and one Human woman, hands bound together in front of them. Slaves. Shepard growled under his breath at the thought. They were dressed in little more than rags, barely covering enough of their body to be able to go out in public. He saw the way they followed their masters, the way they hung on their every word, saying nothing and tilting their heads to the left when prompted. He even saw one of the Asari get spanked by a guard, only to smile as if she enjoyed it. It made him want to puke.

He leaned away from the window, checking over his assault rifle again, and looked around the room to see his squad doing much the same. He had brought his entire ground team for this mission, even if it would be overkill. This would be their first time all working together, and he wanted to see how well they would do.

"So...'The Ravager'." Zaeed said, the grizzled mercenary forming air quotes. Chuckling, he nudged the Turian next to him with his elbow, "What's with Omega and dramatic titles?"

Garrus chuffed with a shrug, shifting uncomfortably on the floor. "It's not like they have anything better to do. Just look around you, I'm sure you'll find plenty of reasons." he gestured to the room around them with a wave of his hand. Everyone looked around, seemingly agreeing with his logic. Shepard glanced to see Miranda with a perpetual scowl plastered on her face, as if the uncleanliness of the room was a direct insult. He couldn't blame her, as dust hung heavy in the air, rubble was scattered all over the floor, and all the furniture had unidentifiable stains all over them. Needless to say everyone had chosen to sit on the floor.

"How do we even know if the 'Bane of the Slaver is going to show?" Jacob asked with a lopsided grin, lifting an eyebrow at Miranda. Their intel had come from the Illusive Man himself, passed along through her to Shepard. "He'll be here." Miranda replied curtly, staring blankly at him. Jacob grin disappeared and he shrugged, silently saying 'If you say so'.

"Small time slaver ring easy to track," Mordin rattled off, the Salarian calibrating his Omni-tool a thousand miles a minute. "Illusive Man has large, professional information gathering network. Intel is good." Miranda nodded at him in thanks but he didn't notice, too busy trying to increase the power of his tech attacks.

Shepard remained silent, glancing once more out the window. The group was standing under a light, casting an orange hue over them. The two well dressed Batarians were arguing now, probably haggling over a price for the slaves. Shepard focused on the guards, milling about the area lazily. _Unfocused, Unprofessional, they don't even have proper armor. Bastards wont know what hit 'em. _He wouldn't fire the first shot though, that honor would be saved for "The Ravager". The Ravager's name had crossed his desk weeks ago, one of the many members of the galaxy the Illusive Man thought would make a good addition to the team. Information on him was scarce, some sort of mercenary that liked to hit slave rings, wiping out the slavers and freeing the slaves. He always hid under his helmet and voice synthesizers, making it almost impossible to identify anything about him. _Hell, we don't even know if he's a "he". _Shepard grimaced at the lack of information, he hated uncertainties.

Suddenly a shot rang out and one of the guards slumped over, a new hole in his head. The other guards spun around, trying to find where the shot had come from, waving their rifles every which way. The two well dressed Batarians and the slaves cowered on the floor, getting as low as possible to avoid getting hit. The slaves clasped their eyes shut and buried their faces in their hands while the slavers darted their eyes in every direction. Another guard fell, blood pouring from a wound in his head, before the others could identify where the shooter was. "Over there!" one yelled, pointing out to something Shepard couldn't see, and soon all the guards began shooting wildly in that direction. Their backs were now turned to Shepard and his squad, and he turned to make sure his squad was ready. They were, standing and poised to strike at a moments notice.

"Remember," he said, "do not hit the slaves at any cost." Everyone nodded and Shepard turned back to the fighting, taking aim with his rifle. "Hit 'em hard, squad!"

Thunder rained down on the guards as the squad opened fire, downing all of them in a matter of seconds. The two slavers they were supposed to be guarding stared at the bodies, watching the blood ooze out of them. The dumbfounded slavers didn't even notice Shepard and his squad as they closed in. Shepard spared a sorrowful gaze at the slaves, still cowering on the floor and flinching they grew near.

"Ravager!" he called out, motioning for his squad to take care of the survivors. Garrus and Zaeed hauled the slavers to their feet and held them in place while Mordin, Miranda and Jacob cared for the slaves. Shepard looked down the street in the direction the guard had pointed, squinting at the shadows for any sign of movement.

"I need your help!"

The street remained quite in stark contrast to the cacophony of the gunfight. Shepard frowned at the silence. Had Ravager already run off? Was he placing Shepard's head in his scope? There were too many unknowns making Shepard uneasy. Just before he gave up though, a gravelly, scratchy voice called out to him.

"And why should I help you, Commander Shepard?"

_At least he hasn't shot me yet. _Shepard thought. Out loud he said, "I need your help to save innocent lives, something I hear you're into." He gestured toward the bodies of the guards, now laying in big, red pools. Shepard grimaced, he didn't like blood.

A rustling sound caught his attention, and out of the shadows of a nearby building emerged a silhouette. Shepard quickly realized that this must be ravager, and he now understood how he hid so well. His armor was pitch black with no distinguishing marks and it seemed to consume light instead of reflect it. His squad raised their weapons at the new figure, but Shepard quickly waved them down. Smiling, he said, "You're quite the sight."

"Ironic since I try so hard not to be seen." Ravager replied, walking to within arms length of Shepard. He stood still and said nothing else, radiating with a sense of calm despite the fact he was outnumbered by six heavily armed strangers. Shepard found his helmet slightly off-putting as he couldn't find any indication of a viewport, resorting to guessing where Ravager's eyes were.

"I'm going against the Collectors, and I need the best at my side." Shepard said after a moment of silence, trying to read Ravager's reaction. Ravager merely shrugged, as if apologetic.

"An important mission I'm sure, but I'm on a mission of my own." Ravager said with a tone of finality, but Shepard wouldn't let him go that easily.

"Then lets make a deal. You help me with my mission and we'll help you with yours." Shepard stepped aside briefly so that Ravager could get a good look at his squad, but he didn't seem to notice. Instead his head followed the Commander, as if the others were unimportant.

"And what happens if I die on your mission?"

"You'll have the best team in the galaxy with you." Shepard said without missing a beat. It was a question he was prepared for and his answer was important. He had to sell the team aspect to Ravager, otherwise he might not be convinced to join them. "We'll cover each others backs no matter what, and we'll always be there for one another." Shepard knew he was gambling, making such promises like this. He hadn't gathered his entire team yet, and he still wasn't sure how well everyone he already had would work together. Still, he had hope and it was the only card he really had left anyway.

"Plus, a good team will make your mission that much easier." Shepard believed his team would work well with one another, but it didn't really matter what he thought, only what Ravager thought. Ravager stood stock still, giving no indication on what he thought about the offer. Shepard soon began growing restless, not wanting to stay here any longer than he needed to. There was no telling what sort of shady characters would come to investigate the gunfight, lowlifes hoping to steal from the dead or any number of option. Miranda soon chimed in to try to sway Ravagers mind.

"You'll be well rewarded for you assistance."

Ravager waved his hand at that. "No need for that, my mind's made up." He extended his arm towards Shepard, who smiled and clapped hands with him.

"Welcome to the crew then. Follow us back to my ship and I'll give you the full details there."

"There's just one more thing I need to take care of..." Ravager said. Quckly whipping out his pistol before anyone knew what was happening he pulled the trigger twice. The slavers slumped in Garrus' and Zeed's arms as they were shot in the head, looks of surprised fear frozen on their faces. Garrus and Zaeed let them slide out of their hands and to the floor as they pulled out their weapons, aiming for their new squad mate, followed closely by everyone except Shepard. Shepard whirled onto Ravager and jabbed a finger into his chest.

"What the hell was that?" he growled.

"They didn't deserve to continue breathing, even if it was in this foul air." Ravager replied coldly. Shepard jabbed his finger into him again.

"We don't shoot unarmed civilians!"

"I'd hardly call slavers 'civilians'." Ravager deadpanned.

Shepard grunted and took a more relaxed posture. "Doesn't matter. What I say goes, is that clear?" Shepard asked sternly, scowling at the man before him. In lieu of a response Ravager gave him a mock salute. Shepard huffed and turned to walk back to the _Normandy_. "Squad, fall in."

"What about the slaves?" Miranda asked, trying to coax the Human woman to stand though she was trying to squirm out of Miranda's grip.

"Bring them to the _Normandy_ and we'll figure out what to do from there. I trust Doctor Chakwas more than any doctor from Omega." There was a soft cough behind, and Shepard looked to see Mordin looking coy. "You know what I meant." he said with a grin.

The squad, now including Ravager soon fell into step behind Shepard, though Mordin, Miranda, and Jacob were having some difficulty getting the former slaves to walk with them. But soon enough the weak women gave up and resigned themselves to being led down the streets of Omega. Shepard frowned again as he saw scars and welts on their exposed skin, knowing that they had been beaten into submission and that they would have a hard time adapting to being free again.

"Sickening, isn't it?" a voice said beside him. It sounded familiar but he couldn't place a name on it until he glanced over. He was shocked to see a Batarian walking with him until he realized that said Batarian was wearing the pitch black armor and holding the helmet of Ravager. His four eyes stared ahead blankly as if he was trying to avoid looking at the slaves.

"You're a Batarian?" Shepard asked in bewilderment, trying to mask the surprise in his voice.

"Not all Batarians like slavery, Commander."

He said it so simply that Shepard almost laughed. Never in a million years would he have dreamed that Ravager, the "Bane of the Slaver" was a Batarian. He wouldn't have said it out loud, but he honestly thought that all Batarians at least accepted slavery. All that talk about it being an "important part of their culture" had gotten to him, influenced his perception of all Batarians. He prided himself on not being racist but here he caught himself thinking the worst about an entire species, and he hated himself for it.

He didn't reply to the Batarian, nodding absently to himself. Ravager didn't feel like saying anything else, it seemed, and they continued walking next to each other in silence.

* * *

><p><em>Here's a new story idea I have, let me know what you think. Please and thank you.<em>


	2. Chapter 2

Tinup Hanash hated being called "The Ravager". He knew it was a name born of fear by the slaver community on Omega, and part of him took pride in that, but it didn't go with why he did what he did. To "ravage" something meant to cause damage to it, so in a sense he supposed he did ravage their business, but that wasn't really his purpose for targetting them. That was just an added bonus. Still, he wasn't comfortable enough with these strangers to give them a real name yet, so he gave them a fake one. "Pero'Kamas." he quickly told them, the Commander eyeing him warily as if he knew it was a fake name, but he didn't push it. Tinup wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

The _Normandy_, as he soon learned, was unlike any ship he had ever seen. Granted, the most impressive ship he had seen before then was a Batarian cruiser ten years out of date, but the _Normandy_ was still more impressive than any ship he had even dreamed about. The outside shone like a jewel and it's design made it look graceful yet deadly, like a dancer that could kill you with its performance. Everyone in the galaxy had heard the rumors, of course, about the_ Normandy_ and the role it played in the defeat of Saren. Tales of the ship had gone far and wide, but Tinup had to admit that rumor and speculation could not compare to seeing it in person. The ship had even more to see on the inside. Every surface was sleek and polished, a strange sight compared to all the dirt and grime that covered everything on Omega. Hell even the air smelled clean, and perhaps a bit fruity.

Walking through the airlock with the Commander and his squad, Tinup glanced over to see a bearded Human peeking at him over his chair in the cockpit. _Must be the pilot. _The Human's eyes widened in shock at the sight of the Batarian and he quickly turned back to the controls. More Humans lined the walls of the hallway they were moving through, stopping from their work to share whispers with one another. Tinup could only hear some of it but he knew they were talking about him, judging by the way they kept eyeing him when they thought he wasn't looking. Tinup scowled at it all. He hated being a Batarian.

Everywhere he went it was always like this. He couldn't even blame them, not when the Hegemony did everything it possibly could to make the Batarian people an outcast from the rest of the galaxy. State sponsored terrorism and slavery did little to form diplomatic bridges, after all. The Hegemony wanted absolute power and wanted it at any means necessary. That meant that subjugating their own people or trying to incite a war with the Alliance at every turn, or really anything that even had a chance of benefitting the Hegemony was fair game in their eyes. That was why he left, that and _her_.

_She deserved better. _he thought bitterly, bile rising in his throat at the thought of his failings. But he would have time to beat himself up about that later.

Passing through a few blast doors the group entered a conference room with a single, large table in the center of it. Tinup was interested to see that at least some of the table was made out of wood, a rare luxury these days. Taking a spot around the table he watched as the Commander occupied the spot at its head and clasped his hands behind his back. The only other two people with them was a Human woman in a skin tight jumpsuit that made Tinup wonder how she could even move in combat and a Turian in blue armor that had seen better days. The other members of Shepards squad had taken the slaves elswhere, presumably to help them in some way.

From what Tinup could tell the woman seemed cold, distant from the others. She was all business, and seemed to like it that way. The Turian, on the other hand, tried to act hard-edged but Tinup could see a mischievous gleam in his eye. The Turian would most likely prove entertaining. The Commander stood rigid and still, back straight and chin held high. He radiated confidence, a born leader. This would be interesting.

"Welcome aboard the _Normandy_, Pero." Shepard said, forcing Tinup out of his musing to give the Commander a nod. "You already know who I am, and you'll meet the others eventually, but for now this is Miranda Lawson and Garrus Vakarian." he continued, gesturing to the woman and Turian respectfully. "Miranda is our liaison to Cerberus, and Garrus is my XO." Miranda seemed to fume and was about to speak but held her tongue due to a pointed look from Shepard. Apparently there were some issues there, but Tinup was more concerned with something else the Commander had said.

"Cerberus?" he asked, bewildered. "This is a Cerberus operation?" Both the Commander and Miranda answered simultaneously.

"No."

"Yes."

"This is my ship and my mission." Shepard added, giving Miranda a look that said 'we'll talk later'. Miranda once again backed down even though it was obvious she had a problem with doing so. Tinup only quirked an eyebrow at the whole ordeal. A glance to Garrus saw the Turian staring at his feet as if looking for an excuse to escape the room. "Cerberus is just offering us supplies and intel." Shepard continued as if nothing had happened.

"Excuse me, I have paperwork to do." Miranda said before Shepard could go further, brushing past Tinup without so much as a glance in his direction.

"Yeah, I should go...calibrate something. It was nice to meet you, Pero." Garrus said, giving Tinup a wave and briskly following Miranda out the door. Shepard nodded to Garrus with a smile as he left, waiting for the door to shut before he spoke again. A silent click signaled that the door was closed and soon Shepards entire manner changed. A fire erupted behind his eyes and his voice grew sharp as a blade, ready to stab at Tinup with his words.

"Now lets talk about those Slavers."

Tinup scowled, thinking the matter done with.

"As I said, they didn't deserve to live."

Shepard shook his head at that, stabbing his finger at Tinup. "My ship, my rules. If I say they live, _they live_!"

"What about justice!" Tinup yelled, though he was trying to reign in his anger.

"Murder isn't justice!" Shepard yelled back, surprising Tinup. "They had surrendered, they no longer posed a threat to you. If you kill them in cold blood, then it makes you no better than them." Tinup desperately wanted to argue, to convince the commander that he was wrong, that those men and others like them were only worth a bullet in the head. That had been his modus operandi ever since he targeted his first slaver ring: no one left alive. Many had tried surrendering before, begging for mercy, but Tinup did not grant it to them. He knew the commander was wrong, but he could also see that arguing would get him no where. He saw conviction in the human's eyes, a steadfast determination to let nothing get in his way, to let nothing sway him. Tinup could admire that, even if he felt the commander was wrong in this case.

"There's no accountability for their actions in my society, Commander." he said, though he was no longer arguing, he was merely stating a fact. "What options do I have left?"

"You do what you can for their victims. That is the best we can do." Shepard answered resolutely. Tinup stared at the commander, contemplating his next words. He could just walk out of the conference room, out of the Normandy altogether, and continue on his mission alone. At least then he could do things his way, and not have to worry about anyone getting in his way. But on the other hand, this business wasn't getting any easier; he had brushed a little too close to death too many times to count. Plus he wasn't any closer to reaching his goal now than when he started three years ago. With others at his side and the resources of the Normandy, he might finally be able to stop searching and find her. All he had to do was swallow his pride and follow the commander's orders; easier said than done.

Settling his mouth into a thin line, he said, "I understand, and I'll follow your lead, Commander." Shepard nodded, seemingly more relaxed than he was a second ago. "Glad that that's taken care of, but now on to business. Do you have a preference on where you sleep?" he asked.

"Just somewhere quiet and out of the way." Tinup replied, standing up a little straighter, mustering up all his remaining pride. He would follow the commander, but he would not act like the commander was his better.

"How 'bout the shuttle bay, then?" the commander suggested. Tinup just shrugged at that, not really caring about his lodgings. As long as he was able to sleep without anyone disturbing him, he would be fine.

Shepard smirked, "Not very picky, are you?"

"I've learned not to be." Tinup deadpanned.

Shepard snorted and gestured for the Batarian to follow him as he made to leave the room. "I'll bet, but come now Mr. Kamas, let me give you a tour."

As they walked through the ship, Tinup found it curious how quickly the commander's demeanor changed. One minute the commander looked ready to tear Tinup a new one, the next he was cracking jokes as if they'd been long friends. Tinup wondered it was all an act, a facade that he put up in front of whatever he was really feeling. Or perhaps he merely held a fine control over his emotions, and could reign in-and let loose-his anger whenever he needed to. Tinup couldn't say for sure, but he intended to find out.

As they entered the elevator, the commander got a knowing look in his eye. "By the way, Mr. Kamas, I hope I'll be able to earn your trust in the near future."

Tinup blinked at Shepard, but didn't give anything away. Or, judging by the commander's smile, perhaps he did. Was he that easy to read? Tinup intended to find that out, too.


End file.
